“What do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them are looking at this week as a tax-deductible excuse to party. Why else would the sponsors have chosen to hold the event at a mountaintop resort?”
Bertie had a point. Dog show exhibitors were no different than anyone else. Remove them from the boundaries and constraints of their daily lives, isolate them all together in a convivial atmosphere, and there was no telling what kinds of trouble they might get up to.
Which led me directly back to our earlier conversation.
“Switzerland,” I muttered under my breath.
Now all I had to do was hold on tight to that thought.
“What, dear?” Aunt Peg asked.
“Nothing.” I rubbed a hand over my stomach. The small swell I felt there gave me comfort. “I think my stomach was rumbling.”
“Little Brutus must be talking to you,” Bertie said.
“Little Brutus?” Aunt Peg craned her head around. “I should hope not.”
“Bertie’s just upset because I won’t let her help Sam and me pick out names for the baby. She’s taken to offering suggestions.”
“Excellent suggestions,” Bertie sniffed. “If I do say so myself.”
“Right,” I said. “This from a woman who almost named her daughter Godot.”
“She was late. I got tired of waiting. I might have been a little cranky when I came up with that name.”
“Might have been?” Trust me, I’d been there. There was no “might” about it.
“And anyway, now I’ve got all week to work on you. Without Sam to back you up, you’ll never be able to withstand my influence.”
“You wish.”
“Five whole days,” Bertie said with a happy sigh. “You know what’s the best thing about leaving all the men home?”
“We don’t have to shave our legs?”
“Not what I was thinking, but good answer.”
“About that no-men thing,” Aunt Peg said casually.
That stopped the conversation cold.
“That doesn’t exactly apply to me,” she said.
She was right in that she hadn’t left a man at home. In fact, since her husband’s death three years earlier, Aunt Peg had had only one relationship I’d been aware of; and that, unfortunately, hadn’t lasted long.
But somehow I had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t what she was referring to.
Bertie and I exchanged glances. She shrugged slightly, apparently as baffled as I was.
“Go on,” I said.
“There’s actually another reason I signed up to come to the symposium. I happen to have a new boyfriend. His name is Richard Donner and he’ll also be attending. I’m quite certain we’re all going to get along famously.”
2
“Wow!” cried Bertie. “Good for you.”
I just stared.
It wasn’t the thought of Aunt Peg with a man that made my eyes widen. It was the fact that she’d apparently managed to slip this one into place in her life without my noticing his existence earlier.
Aunt Peg was sneaky, that was a given; it was one of her better attributes. But truly, I had thought I was more observant than to let something of this magnitude slide by.
Maybe the consensus was right and pregnancy had addled my brain.
“So,” said Bertie, “you’re going to Pennsylvania to meet up with a hot date. Tell us everything.”
“His name is Richard Donner.”
“We already have that much,” I said impatiently. “Where did you meet him?”
“Over the Internet.”
The comment was delivered with total nonchalance. As if she thought that feigned indifference on her part might ward off the anticipated outcry. It didn’t.
“You must be joking!”
“Perfect.” Bertie giggled. “Did you go to one of those sites like match dot com? Have you met your perfect match? This is so romantic—”
“It is not romantic,” I said sternly. “In fact it might be only one step away from lunacy. What do you know about this man aside from the fact that he owns a computer?”
Peg was unruffled. “I know he likes dogs.”
“Everybody likes dogs.”
“Bob’s next door neighbor doesn’t.”
Bob was my ex-husband, and Amber was a cat person. All of which was beside the point.
“Have you met him in person? Do you even know what he looks like?”
“I’ve seen his picture. To borrow a word from Bertie, he’s hot.”
“If what he showed you was the right picture,” Bertie mentioned.
Peg’s gaze swung her way. “What do you mean?”
“Plenty of people misrepresent themselves on the Internet. Child molesters go to chat rooms and pretend to be twelve-year-old girls—”
“You think I’ve gotten myself mixed up with a child molester?” Aunt Peg sounded incredulous. Also annoyed.
“I’m just using that as an example. You have to be really careful when you use those Internet dating sites—”
“How would you know?” I asked.
Bertie ignored me. “Of course everyone wants to present themselves in the best light. So you add a couple inches to your height, shave off twenty pounds, say you have a master’s degree when you barely graduated from high school.”
“People do that?” Aunt Peg, a woman who had never felt inadequate in her life, still sounded incredulous.
“That and more,” I confirmed. “For all you know, you might have seen a picture of what this Richard person looked like ten years ago.”
“Or maybe one of his next door neighbor,” Bertie said.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Aunt Peg scoffed.
“No, we’re not.”
“You’re mad, both of you.”
“We’re being cautious.”
“And realistic.”
“Cynical,” Peg said firmly. “With very little faith in the goodness of human nature apparently.”
“When it comes to the Internet, buyer beware.”
“I think you’re both missing the point. I’m not trying to buy anything.”
Aunt Peg took a moment to lift her foot from the gas pedal and study some approaching road signs. She didn’t want to miss the turn onto 80 West. And maybe she was hoping a pause in the conversation would result in a change of subject.
Not a chance.
“So you haven’t actually met this guy in person yet?” I said once we were on the new highway.
I was beginning to relax a little. If all they had done was exchange a few e-mails, maybe there was still time to ward off impending disaster.
“Believe me, it isn’t from lack of desire on either of our parts. But unfortunately we’re